


Oceans.

by floatawaysomedays



Series: Before My Morning Coffee [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:22:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatawaysomedays/pseuds/floatawaysomedays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of S9 timestamps</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oceans.

Dean sees Cas again on a Sunday.

They’re driving down Main Street, stuck behind a little green car that’s grinding along like it has nowhere else to be. Like the ride is more fun than the destination.

“They’re out for a Sunday drive.” Dean grumbles as he shifts in the driver’s seat. Sam gives this barely there huff of laughter and turns his head.

“Well, it  _is_  a nice day for it.”

It is. The sun is shining, and the air is just this side of fall. Just this side of warm. Any day now the weather will take the final plunge into fall and frost and the chill of the night will seep into mornings like this and dig it’s fingers in. Hold on, until winter starts. But, it’s nice enough, for now. The windows are down, and the air is clean and there might be a lack of warmth in the backseat, but it’s okay. For now.

They’re scouring the country for the fallen. Sam is feeling up to traveling, after eight months, and Kevin is around to hold down the fort. So, they’re out, and about. Asking questions. Tracking leads. If they could just get to where they were going.

“This is the longest red light-”

“Dean.”

Dean glances away from the road, they’re stopped anyway, and across the front seat to Sam. “Yeah?”

“I think…” Sam is leaning towards the open window, his face scrunched up.”I think that’s  _Cas_ _._ ”

And now that Dean’s looking at the little shops lined up, and past the cars parallel parked along the street, he sees exactly what Sam is staring at.

Dean throws the car into park, and jumps out of the driver’s seat like he’s on _fire_. Sam is calling to him, opening his own door and climbing out because they’ve stopped in the middle of traffic. On Main Street. 

Castiel isn’t wearing the suit and the coat. His face is covered in more than a day’s worth of beard. He’s dirty, filthy actually, and his clothes are wrinkled. Too big and awkward for his small frame.

But his eyes are the same. Bright and blue, and that’s how Dean  _knows_ , without a trace of a doubt, that this is Cas, and not Jimmy. Jimmy’s eyes were different, they were flighty, sky blue, all over the place. Assessing and sharper, somehow. Gorgeous, in their own right.

Cas is long glances and the light of the sky reflected in deep, deep blue. If Dean was inclined to write poetry, if he had a gift for words, that’s what he would write about. Oceans and pools and rivers and streams. Seas and green seaweed drowning in the weight of color.

So, yeah. It’s Cas in the ugly as fuck hoodie, zip-up, _thing_ , hair mussed and greasy. It’s Cas standing with hands by his sides, with his mouth slightly open.

And Dean isn’t responsible for what happens next, he really isn’t. His face isn’t wet as he swipes a sleeve across his eyes and sprints across the street, cars honking, and runs the length of the sidewalk. Wraps arms around Cas’s shoulders and fists a hand in the hair at the nape of neck. Too long. His hair is too long, curling at the edges, and it’s _been_  too long.

“Thought I’d lost you, man.” The  _for good this time_  that was hanging on the end of that thought lingers, there, unspoken. Choked off into Castiel’s collarbone.

And then he gets something that he didn’t in Purgatory. Cas hugs him back. Brings unsteady hands to clutch at the wings of Dean’s shoulders, he noses under Dean’s jaw and just  _breathes._ softly. Quietly. “Not all of me.”


End file.
